And then I realise that it’s probably not so much that I can’t, but sadly that I’m not willing to. It would be really hard, but I’m sure that if I just tried a little harder, I could find a way to say what I needed to say.

But it hurts way too much to think about, and God knows that I never actually allow myself to fully feel it. Expressing myself is confrontational like that – it forces you to think and feel in ways that I fear would literally KILL ME.

Why not?
Because it will kill me, which sounds funny, right? considering all of the suicidal ideation, you’d think I’d be okay with that… but you see, it’s not the death that I’m afraid of. It’s the suffering leading up to the death that terrifies me. It feels so bad right now that I couldn’t begin to imagine it feeling any worse. But it would feel worse – a hell of lot worse – if I were to talk or draw it for you. And then I’d be left for way too long to try to fight everything, alone. I would never make it through.